Accidentally in Love
by Wanderlustlover
Summary: Hermione and Ron during book five. Medium POV.


Title: Maybe We're Accidentally In Love

Section: Vignette/Stand Alone

Author: Manda

Rating: PG

Fandom: Harry Potter-verse; Ron thought piece

Setting: Hmm…..somewhere in book five probably

A/N: Title gotten from an icon made by Calaxia

I remember the first time I thought she was cute.

Seamus had only that morning commented -suddenly and out of the blue, it seemed to me then- that I was lucky to have a girl best friend, who not only really smart, but also hot. I jumped to her defense like any good best friend would. I said a lot of stupid things. About how our friendship wasn't like that and I didn't think of her that way, because she was Hermione, and because, well, I just didn't.

He apologized very fast and I felt guilty for it. But I didn't apologize for yelling at him.

I didn't see her till later that day. Herbology. I will never be good at herbology. I don't remember specifically what we were doing that day, but I couldn't get it to do what it was supposed to do and I was going to ask her and Harry for some help. But I stopped when I'd just looked up at her. I don't think I'll ever forget that.

She had her face scrunched up scrutinizing the pot full of dirt in front of her. Her hair was tied back tight and her eyes were utterly focused on the task in front of her. She was in her own little world. That little world she always went to when it came to books and cleverness. That little world that none of us but Hermione Granger can really seem to get to.

And she had a swipe of dirt on her face. It started on her lower jaw and ran up in an arc across her nose. I was going to start laughing when from out of nowhere this voice in my head said she actually was kind of cute.

What with that shiny brown hair, even if it was bushy and a normal brown color like the bark on trees. And those bright, clear eyes, like twin pools of information on almost literally everything. Hands that almost always had some ink on the edges of the fingertips from writing into the nights and between classes, far more than ever was needed. She was always presentable no matter what she wore and she shined. She always had a smile for anyone and she tried to have her heart in the right place.

And I dropped the planter pot in my hands with a loud crash that got everyone's attention. Draco made some nasty comment and the professor took care of him. Hermione just rolled her eyes at my carelessness and asked if I needed help.

I snapped that I didn't need her help. That I was smart enough I could do it without her help. And I did. And I was snippy and sharp with her for the rest of the day no matter what came out of her mouth.

I was about as smart about this realization as any boy at the age of fourteen. Which means I was more than utterly clueless and could have had more grace if I'd just pelted her with rocks or yanked on her bushy brown hair like a five year old.

And in the end I did nothing about it really. Classes and stresses and…oh, yeah, the evil that always pursues us somehow each year, made it so I really didn't have to think about it. Because after all she was my girl best friend and I wasn't really supposed to think of her that way. It passed for a while like a scent I caught just long enough to name and forget again.

But not for long enough, because the next year there came Harry's first real crush, and listening to him talk about his crush brought everything in my thoughts about Hermione back to the surface. I couldn't really say anything to him. I wanted to. I longed to some nights. To just shake him awake and tell him it in the dark like some evil, hidden, forbidden secret so it wouldn't be the thing crushing all the air out of my lungs that I alone knew.

But I couldn't. She was out girl best friend. Best friend. Not girl friend. Not crush. Best friend.

And as he'd talk about Cho, I'd think about the impossibility of Hermione. That she was a know-it-all. That she's was annoying. That she always got high marks. That she always got everything right. That her cat hated me and it was quite mutual. That all the teachers liked her. That her homework was always done early and amazingly well. That she was meant for this bright and glorious future the way she was going.

And then this weird thing started to happen.

I'd gotten used to sneaking these glances at her randomly. Because it was my tiny reward for the penance of no one in the entire world knowing I had truly developed a crush on one of my best friends. But then this thing happened. I'd look over at her when I thought no one was looking and suddenly I'd meet her eyes. And she'd look away fast. Like she didn't want me to know she'd been looking at me. And then she'd start turning red.

I didn't know what to think. She couldn't possibly like me. I was probably one of the slowest people to learn anything hear even if I wouldn't admit to it. I'd beg to copy her work before studying as hard as she does. I hate classes and homework. I have shabby robes and a poor family who's reputation isn't the best even when your one of them and love them all. I'm never in agreement with what she has to say. I'm all arms and legs and they still don't know how to match up with my body.

And I got confused and I acted stupid and fifteen. I sniped at her. I griped about her comments. I got mean.

And I got what I deserved. She went with Viktor to that dance and looked radiant. I didn't even remember I had a date, a mother, or a thought process when I watched her walking beside him. She was a vision, all sleek and shiny, and like one of those funny dreams I never thought to long about because it made me feel weird about in the morning.

And I yelled at her about it around then, too. Stupid and hurt it wasn't me. That the world just couldn't make her have a crush on me so this was easier to deal with. She was right to yell back and Harry was right to be confused.

He's gone back to his school and his home now. Her date, her Viktor…..the dunderhead who can't even pronounce her name right. And she still writes to him regularly. I leave the table early those mornings when she's reading his letters. I don't want to turn bright red while she can see me. I wish sometimes I could burn her letters. I wonder if she reads them aloud to the other girls in their dormitory or if she keeps them under her pillow or next to her bed because they make her smile.

I kill myself with this, until the next time I realize she's still looking at me. He's come and gone and she's still looking at me. She doesn't always blush anymore and she's not so quick to look away. And it makes us both snippy near Harry because I don't think either of us knows how to react once we've spent a few seconds staring at each other and then Harry's interrupting us with whatever new drama's taken him over this month.

This summer with her and my family all at Sirius's house was awkward. I'd never thought hanging out with my best friend for a month could be awkward. Sometimes we just couldn't sit together and talk, we'd get restless and just not talk for a few days unless it was about some piece of information we'd gleened off the Ears or about Harry or someone coming or going.

I think not having Harry there for a month did something drastic to us. Aside from that last day before Harry showed up. But that day changed a lot of things, too.

We got to go for a walk outside. Mum hated it but lets us pack of kids go. We'd split a little walking around some stores and I wasn't quite used to the bad drivers out there. I was in the road and she pulled me out of the way right before a guy on a motorcycle almost collided with me. She pulled me so hard and I jumped so fast in her direction I ended up in her arms. There was no control over what happened. It wasn't graceful or perfect, there was no moonlight or trying to explain. Before I knew it my lips were on hers.

I went still, feeling like a stupid git and a heel. Got ready to explain and then she kissed me back. It was only three seconds at the very most and then I heard our names being called. We broke away from each other like we couldn't let go fast enough. None of them saw it in the crowd and we didn't talk about it. Haven't talked about it.

Harry came the next day and then school. Then the ministry at Hogwarts and the heavy course loads preparing for the O.W.L's. Not to mention Prefect duties, too.

And there are seldom moments where we're actually alone. And when there are then we talk really quietly and not about it at all. We talk about how Harry's dealing with the Daily Prophet, Umbridge, Dumbledore's not seeing him, the rumors, lies, his attitude and how we'll stand by him no matter how bad it gets. And even no matter how bad he gets since sometimes at the moment he's a really hard trial.

But we never talk about the fact we stare at each other. And we don't talk about that day on the street. And we don't reference things like this sort and we try to avoid even looking at each in Harry's presence, which is hard when it's only three of us. And then we get grouchy and moody with each other, like we don't know how to behave near each other without arguing about everything small and large.

And I try not to think about how her lips were slippery and warm from chapstick. Or that I want to touch her hair just to know what'd feel like between my fingers. Or that I've begun trying to catch her while she's writing her papers furiously because the way she scrunches up her face in utter concentration is so adorable. And I try most of all not to think about what she's thinking and what she's not saying.

And I think….I think it might be almost impossible….but I think maybe we're accidentally in love.


End file.
